


the house is quiet and I forgive you

by Ro29



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DC - Fandom, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Apologies, Bonding, Canon does them all dirty so they all get to have a Feelings talk, Canonical Character Death, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's Damian this time :(, No Bashing, They all do actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro29/pseuds/Ro29
Summary: Dick and Cass and Tim meet for the first time in a long time, they are all grieving and it puts things from the past into perspective a little bit.Anger can be harder to hold onto in the face of losing someone
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	the house is quiet and I forgive you

**Author's Note:**

> not my best work but if i read this over again one more time I'm never gonna post it so nsjfskjf here you go
> 
> Also, no bashing on anyone please and thank you 
> 
> they're all hurting and i want them all to have nice things and be a family

The Manor is still, quiet, the air full of ghosts and dreams.

Bruce is out, Alfred is shopping, Damian is—

Dick winces, doesn’t think about that.

He doesn’t think about a lot of things, it’s easier that way, better than breaking down.

(He looks at the Damian of his memories and thinks _child, my child, my heart and my love and my life_. He looks at the empty part of his heart, all ripped open and ravaged. All the bits torn out and thinks, _dead, dying, gone._

He looks at the child’s grave and can’t think _Damian_ , can’t see the prickly wonderful little boy who revealed the kindness he held in spades.

He breathes, and it is grief, lined with sorrow, lined with the parts of his heart.)

The Manor is still and Dick stands in the entryway like he is the ghost, the unwanted memory.

There is a shadow on the stairs.

Dick breathes, closes the door and hangs up his jacket. Makes his way to Cass’s side slowly, silently.

She is still. Hair falling into her face and eyes on him, watching.

“Hi Cass,” he rasps and she blinks, waves slowly, hesitantly.

He hums, looks up at the chandelier, “Words a no today?” he asks, gently, treads on the tightrope of upsetting her and being there for her and hopes he doesn’t tip over the edge.

She shrugs, shakes her head, flicks her hands through the beginnings of dozens of different words, never finishes any of them.

They sit like that, quiet, on the stairway of a Manor neither of them have been back in for months.

Finally she moves, and Dick focuses on her body, her hands.

‘ _Heard_ ’, she signs, and he doesn’t need to ask what she heard about.

_Heard and no one told me,_ she doesn’t sign, and Dick reads anyways, in the lines of her body, the tensing of her shoulders the flex of her jaw and the tilt of her head, _heard and everyone is hurting, heard and I was alone, heard and I don’t know how to_ _feel, heard and I didn’t like him sometimes but he was a child._

So many things unsaid, in the Manor.

Dick breathes and he both wants to apologize and wants to snap at her.

He does neither, looks down at his hands instead and thinks of tiny hands that were always smeared with graphite.

He breathes, “How are you?”

She frowns, shrugs, and reaches out a finger to tap his leg, flicks quickly, ‘ _fine, you not though.’_

Dick shrugs, “I miss him, and it’s weird now, but I’m okay Cass.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, bites at his lip, “You aren’t fine though, or you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

She shrugs, hands twisting into a _‘complicated’._ Dick doesn’t wince, nods, he understands that though.

Damian and her had never meshed well but—

Cass has never wanted him dead when he did nothing wrong, has always loved the family with all she had.

“Yeah kiddo,” he sighs, leans against the stairs and ignores the press of the edges into his aching back, “I know.”

Someone slips in through the window, almost quiet enough to miss, and Dick listens closely, makes out the steady stride and relaxes.

‘ _Tim_ ,’ Cass signs, and Dick nods.

Tim is — not a person Dick wants to see now in all honesty.

But Dick has rarely gotten the things he wants.

He sighs, sits up and looks to the top of the stairs just as Tim reaches it.

Tim freezes, something like anger and regret and something else too complex for Dick to name flickering across his face before it shutters.

Dick waves, “Hey, feel like joining us in our party?”

Cass snorts, ‘ _Pity Party_ ,’ she signs and Dick shrugs, “Still a party.”

Cass sighs, ‘ _Not fun, just makes you feel all bad inside.’_

Dick snorts, looks up at Tim, “Well, apparently Cass and I are awful conversationalists right now, but if you feel like putting up with us—”

He trails off, watches Tim as nonchalantly as he can, hopes, with a ferocity that surprises him, that Tim will accept the olive branch.

He’d thought he used all of that hope up already, with the other times he’d tried and been turned away.

Something is different this time, something cracks and Tim shifts a little, nods his head and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear.

He looks, in that moment, a little like that kid who still thought Dick was good and great and could do no wrong.

It hurts, in an aching kind of way, not like the sharp stabbing of Damian but—

Well, there are a lot of hurts between them, and very little healed.

Tim walks down the stairs, a little hesitant and Dick and Cass wait for him.

It’s silent in the Manor as Tim sits down with them, and there are ghosts in the halls taking the shape of barbed wire and words unsaid and children dead.

_I’m sorry_ , Dick doesn’t say, _I’m mad at you_ , he thinks, _I love you still and I didn’t want to hurt you._

Tim sighs, “I don’t think I hated him.”

_Him_ , he says and Dick hears, _Damian, Demon Brat, Yours, the one you chose, Robin, The wanted one._

_I didn’t choose him over you_ , he wants to say, has already said so many times he doubts Tim even registers it anymore, _I wanted you, I loved you, I love you, I asked you to stay, you left, you left me._

He doesn’t say that, sighs instead, rubs a hand over his tired eyes, “I know.”

Tim picks at his shirt, “I didn’t like him, he irritated me and was always being a little shithead to me and it made me mad.”

Dick wants to grab his hand, wrap him up in a hug, but Tim has never liked hugs unless he asks for them. He runs a hand through his hair instead.

“I was mad at him for a lot of things,” Tim says, and it is a confession. Tim swallows, whispers, “I was angry with him, but I don't think he deserved to die.”

Cass shifts, ‘ _Spiky’,_ she signs, ‘ _Good though, very complicated.’_

Dick laughs, a little wet and a little choked, “Yeah, he was a good kid, and he was a shithead at times but he was a good kid.”

They’re quiet.

“Are you mad at Bruce?” Tim asks and Dick closes his eyes.

He thinks about it, thinks he could be, if he had the will to be. There are a hundred things he could be mad at Bruce for, could let build up and explode.

But he has spent so long growing angry and forgiving and then repeating the cycle and he is _tired_.

And Bruce is already mad enough at himself anyways, already digging himself into a spiral from the guilt. Dick doesn’t need to add to that.

“No,” he answers, and Tim freezes.

“Oh.” he says, and there is something like shock there.

It’s fair, Dick guesses, feeling tired and heart aching.

Cass presses close to Dick, leans her head against his shoulder, takes his calloused hands into her own and plays with his fingers.

Tim fiddles with the hem of his shirt, bites at his lip, “I was mad at you.”

Dick blinks, looks at Tim out of the corner of his eye, thinks, _I know, you were mad at me for a lot of things but what does this have to do with anything?_

Doesn’t ask that, says simply, “Oh?”

Tim shrugs, “For Conner.”

Oh, Dick thinks faintly, feels stupid.

It makes sense.

He’d wondered, a lot, whether Tim had wished it was Dick who died instead. Had spent so long reading those words in between the lines of what Tim said that it’s second nature to expect them now.

Tim purses his lips, looks up at Dick, “I’m not, anymore, by the way. I blamed you for a long time, and it was wrong of me and I’m sorry. I—”

Tim frowns, twitches, and Cass leans over, taps him once on the forehead.

The Manor is quiet and there are ghosts being brought to life and Dick is part relieved and part exhausted and part terrified.

Tim closes his eyes, breathes, “I was mad at you and that wasn’t fair. I was mad but mostly I was _hurting_ and I didn’t want help. I just wanted everything to be okay again. And even when everything was okay again, I was still mad at you and I was mad at Damian because I’d spent so long being mad at you guys and letting everything prick me that it was easier than saying sorry and,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m _sorry.”_

Dick smiles, soft and sad, “No one makes good decisions when they’re hurting Tim, I don’t blame you.”

Tim shook his head, “You’re lying, but that’s okay cause I did a lot of that too. I shouldn’t have blamed you and I shouldn’t have blown up at you and I’m sorry.”

Dick leans his head on Cass’s, reaches a hand out to Tim, “I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t ask whether you _wanted_ to be Nightwing instead of Robin.”

Tim shrugs, doesn’t look at Dick as he takes his hand.

Cass sighs, ' _We were all being dumb and bleeding pain from our hearts.'_

Dick presses a kiss to her head, “Yeah Cass, we were.”

_'Sorry'_ , she signs, and Dick hums.

“It’s okay Cass. We’re okay.”

Tim squeezes Dick’s hand, whispers, “I wanted to hate you _so much_. It felt like I was ripping myself apart”

Dick squeezes back, “I’m not saying it was okay. But I understand, I forgive you.”

Tim laughs and it’s bitter, too old for someone so young, “You always forgive us.” He says, and he sounds awful.

Cass stiffens, presses closer into Dick’s side, guilt lining her body and Dick sighs, “Because it’s worth it in the end.” He says, answers the unspoken question of _Why?_

“Even with Bruce?” Tim asks and Dick rubs his thumb across the back of Tim’s hand.

_Damian_ , he thinks, and he thinks, _My child, my love, forgiveness, and hope, and grief, and love._

“Even with Bruce.” He says.

It’s a fact, Dick has always loved his family, it will always be worth it, in the end, to forgive them, for moments like this.

Tim’s breathing hitches and he swipes a hand quickly across his face.

“I miss the brat.” He says, twists the topic back, “He made the Manor loud again.”

Dick laughs, sad and grieving. “Yeah he did, didn’t he.”

They sit on the stairway of the Manor until Alfred gets back, and it is the most together Dick has felt since Damian died.

It’s a start. Dick is still upset and Tim is still upset and Cass is still upset and they will all hurt each other again over something stupid or something important, but Damian is dead, and the Manor is quiet and they sit together and Dick feels like maybe, for once, he will not have to carry the weight of it all alone.

It’s a good feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to find me other places I have a [writing tumblr](https://rose-blooms-red.tumblr.com) and a [fandom tumblr](https://themessofthecentury.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please come yell at me about Star Wars and DC!


End file.
